Back from the dead... er, Long Island
I just spent the last night yakking with 5 other girls, shoving pizza in my face, drinking Coronas, martinis, and daiquiris, and basically feeling alienated and complete at the same time. We shot the shit about a lot of things, but mainly, my harsh view of reality was not well-received. No babies, no boys, no big house in the sky... and these girls (age range 22 to 29) all want it. They want to be soccer moms, drive minivans, wear high-waisted maternity pants. They want big weddings, they want marriage, comfort, boredom, shared bedrooms, romance, perpetual romance, furthered perpetual romance. Half think you should be wild, the other half look down on it. But we're all the same - but we're all different. I fit in, I fit out. We eat in, we eat out. We learn about where we've had sex, the nuttiest place we've had sex, how many people we've had sex with in the nuttiest place we've had sex. We don't discuss books, we discuss boys. We don't discuss movies, we discuss boys. Then the young ones go to bed and the older ones stay up and talk about mysticism and our families and where we come from.
Why is it that these girls come from a place so foreign. Not a question. Declarative.
2005-04-16 | 1:41 p.m.
